


About Time

by TAle_xistime



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Elizared - Freeform, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drinking, I surely do not know, If you call it that, Lizzington - Freeform, One Shot, Timeline?, for a spicy dream sequence, strong t-rating, whats that?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28499379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAle_xistime/pseuds/TAle_xistime
Summary: It's Christmas eve and haunted by memories, Red almost drinks himself to death. Plastered as heck, he calls Lizzie, and tells her bloody Christmas story. Lizzie rush's to comfort him, and sorts out some of her feelings along the way.Very strong T-rating for a spicy dream sequence."He spoke softly, his peppermint scented breath mixing with hers.'What do you really want?'Her eyes snapped open. She already knew the answer.“You.”His eyes flit open in confusion as she grabbed his tie and pulled him the rest of the distance.He let out a soft groan as he granted her access to his mouth, her tongue exploring every inch of the supple flesh there."
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen & Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	About Time

**Author's Note:**

> So in this you may notice I call Red's wife Danny and his daughter Addy. That's because in the AU I prefer to write in, Carla and Jennifer Reddington don't exist. They are just paper trails that are made to seem like Danny and Addy were never killed by the Cabal during a raid in Red's house to get the classified info to sink the U.S.S Gideon and frame Red for terrorism. So Carla and Jennifer Reddington are supposedly his family that went into WitSec but they actually don't exist. Those names and aliases for his dead family are just to make it seem like Daniella and Adeline Reddington never really died so the Cabal can cover it's tracks. 
> 
> Also our Red is the real Raymond Reddington and has no relation to Liz in any way and did not know her at all as a child. He was brought to her during his hunt for the Cabal, getting revenge for his family's killing. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or make any profit off of my stories. 
> 
> I love all your comments! Please leave me more! "loss" update on Mondays, and "Stained Red" update on Wednesdays.

“What do you want, Agent Keen?”

Raymond moved closer to her, his eyes moving up and down her nightgown cloaked figure before pausing on her chest.

When he finally looked up coolly examining her, his eyes were dark. His tongue rolled on the inside of his cheek. A mischievous smile lighting up his face.

She watched his lips, her own mouth parting.

She sat up slowly, one strap of her nightgown sliding off her shoulder, exposing her chest. The smirk was instantly wiped off his face as his eyes closed in on the newfound flesh.

He sat on the edge of her bed, lust filling the air between them. He moved forward slowly, tilting his head to line his lips up with her neck.

Just a breath away.

He surged forward, and began passionately sipping at her neck. Teeth and tongue making contact and making her flush. 

She whimpered, head leaning backward, giving him better access. She could feel his jaw working against the sensitive skin there, and it lit her aflame.

She bit her lip, trying not to lose her composure.

He pulled back and moved his head around. His lip’s just inches away from hers. His eyes closed.

He spoke softly, his peppermint scented breath mixing with hers.

“What do you really want?”

Her eyes snapped open. She already knew the answer.

“You.”

His eyes flit open in confusion as she grabbed his tie and pulled him the rest of the distance.

He let out a soft groan as he granted her access to his mouth, her tongue exploring every inch of the supple flesh there.

He broke off from her lips and pinned her to the bed, his hands gently holding her forearms to the pillow as he began to make his way from her jaw bone down her body, working her skillfully, letting the pressure rise. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

She was startled awake by her vibrating phone plunging off her bedside table, into the black, night covered abyss below her bed.

It had made her jump at first, but she quickly got her bearings before leaning over her bed and scooping up her now lit screen. It took a second for her eyes to focus in on the caller I.D, and when she saw who it was she almost threw the phone off her balcony.

Nick’s Pizza.

She gulped and shook her head, trying to clear her mind of all she had just woken up from. Trying to forget how real the feel of his tongue was as it dragged around her-

It was the third dream this week. 

She answered, most of her composure pieced back together. Placing her angry mask back on. It was all she could ever do anymore to protect herself from him. Especially when the last thing she wanted to do was think about why she was having those vivid dreams or why she found herself feeling extremely flustered whenever she was in his presence.

“Hello?” She managed groggily.

But all she heard was silence.

It dragged on and some worry in her sparked, because why would Red call this late, 2:28 in the morning to be exact, on Christmas, if something wasn’t wrong? 

“Red? Are you there?” She couldn’t hide all the worry from her voice, but neither the lingering mask of annoyance she had so hastily thrown on.

She heard rustling in the background before a low voice came on the line. 

“Lizzie? What are you doing?” The worry left just as quickly as it came replaced by even more annoyance. Real annoyance this time. 

“Red, you called me, at 2 in the morning, on Christmas, and you have the nerve to ask me what I’m doing? Unless this is something important I’m going back to bed and enjoying my Christmas off.” She spat venom in her words and waited for his response.

“It was 30 years ago exactly. You know that? I did. Damn, I hate Christmas.” His words were significantly slurred and for the first time it dawned on Liz.

Red was drunk.

She could almost smell the alcohol that must be reeking from him now. Some of her annoyance dispersed as she realized, she had never, not once, seen Red drink enough liquor to get as hammered as he clearly was now. Red could outdrink just about anyone, and still come away sober enough to drop someone from almost any distance with a single shot from his gun. Just how much alcohol would Red have to consume to be drunk enough to call her at 2 in the morning on CHRISTMAS and then rant about how he hated the season? 

“Red, where is Dembe? How much have you had to drink?” She heard a sniffle over the line before he slurred again, ignoring her question.

“I dunno why I thought I could stay here Lizzie. I just can’t stan’ it.”

Liz’s curiosity was piqued, as she had never heard Red drunk before.

This could be terribly entertaining.

Perhaps she could talk some sense into him and get him to go to bed or find Dembe. So at that moment she decided she would play along.

“Stay where Red?”

“Here. In ‘merica. I’ve never done it before for Christmas. I stayed ‘cause a you this year. Maybe I shouldn’t have though. I mean, you’re so angry all the time and just want me to leave ya alone, but I just can’t Lizzie. I’m so scared you're gonna get hurt too. And you’re all I gots now. After them. And I'm just so close to that house Lizzie, I can’t stand it. I just keep seeing them everytime I close my eyes-”

He was rambling, moving from one topic to another rather quickly. Liz tried to keep up with his ramblings so she could make sense of what he was saying.

Liz found herself feeling confused and guilty. Red had never called her out like that, he had never seemed so vulnerable before as he was now, drunk off his ass. Really not in the right mind to be talking to anyone that wasn’t close to him, as he could slip up and say something incriminating.

Like, ‘Oh ya, I remember where I had that guy buried.’

She knew that Red didn’t deserve half of the things she pinned on him. But it was so much easier to stay angry with him than to acknowledge that she might be starting to have feelings for Red.

Something stronger than friends or coworkers.

Especially after she had literally just woken up still shaking from adrenaline after having a dream about him going dow-

She deserved the dig.

She was running from him, from her complex feelings about him. She didn’t know what to say after his jab at her, but didn’t want the conversation to taper off.

She felt noisy, but if she could learn new things about Red, peek over his carefully constructed barrier, then why not take the opportunity?

She felt guilty about taking advantage of him, along with how cold she could be to him when he didn’t deserve it.

But what harm could come out of a story of his? He told her stories all the time. And it’s not like she was going to blackmail him, or tell anyone an embarrassing story.

She just wanted to know him better.

Her voice came out a croak, mildly tinged guilt at how miserable she knew she made him, and still reeling from how real that dream was. 

“What house?” She heard a small huff of amused exasperation over the line. Like he couldn’t believe the predicament he found himself in. 

“The one where’s I lost D-Danny and Addy.”

Danny and Addy? Liz racked her brain for instances in which she may have heard those names in conjunction with Red, but came up empty. Just as she was about to press him he spoke again.

“I was s-so s-stupid.” He stuttered on his words, and his voice broke slightly. She could feel as his mood shifted into guilt and anguish. Though his mood didn’t affect his timbre or tone, not yet leaking into his speech. 

Liz found herself all the more curious and slightly shocked. Red had never let his guard down as much as this before and she could feel how heartbroken he was from over the line.

She was well apt at reading his microscopic moods. Using what little emotion was present under his mask was one of the only ways she could stay on her toes with him. He rarely let his emotion into his tone however. So she had used body language, his various tics, and most of all her instinct to decipher how he was feeling. She was almost running completely on instinct now, along with how his pitch fluctuated as he spoke. 

Maybe she shouldn’t be prying like this-

But what in the hell was he talking about? 

“I-I still can’t stop thinking about how if I had just filled up before I left the base, how I could have saved them, how I could have protected them, but I-I was just too excited to see them. Danny had mentioned good news and I couldn’t wait to see if, if we got lucky. Addy would be so excited Lizzie, she wanted a little sister.”

A few pieces clicked into place in Liz’s mind.

Red was talking about his family. Danny must have been his wife, and Addy his daughter. And Danny and Red were trying to get pregnant? 

Liz was confounded. She had never heard Red talk about his old family, or confirm if he even had one. And here he was not making any sense.

Liz had of course heard the rumors that Red had a family back when he was still in the Navy. 

Back before he became, well, Red.

But they were just that. Rumors.

And if Red had a family, what happened to them? What had he needed to fill up? What did they need protection from? She was reeling, trying to comprehend what he was saying, scared that she would misunderstand what he was talking about. He was so hard to understand, jumping from topic to topic and stringing his words together into one jumbled salad of words. 

“Red, what are you talking about?” She said it gently, trying to lead him into the correct direction to give her answers.

“H-how they d-died. How I k-killed them.”

Oh.

Well that got Liz’s attention.

His voice was strangled as he spoke. He wasn’t emotional yet, but reflective, still remaining relatively calm, cool, and put together. Like his regular, sober self. Minus how pitchy his voice was being and how he was slurring and stuttering like crazy.

His stuttering wasn’t necessarily out of emotion, but out of being completely hammered. Like the sorrow that laid dormant in his tone was numbed after all the years spent trying desperately to be able to, at the very least, function. Still present but in a different form then that of absolute soul wrenching anguish.

Like he was rehearsing a script half heartedly. Just an onlooker in his own life.

She felt the need to comfort him when his words registered, his guilt growing more and more present with each passing moment. To reassure him that whatever happened surely hadn’t been his fault. She appalled at the thought that he thought he had somehow killed his family, because he surely couldn’t do something like that intentionally.

Not her Red. Her Red only gave justice to those that deserved it. Even if his morals and methods were slightly skewed. 

“Red, I’m sure you didn’t kill-”

He cut her off, continuing his drunken ramble, and she let him. If he could wear himself out, she could just make sure he gets to Dembe and everything would be fine. He would be fine- 

“It was Christmas eve Lizzie. Kinda like this one. It was so c-cold. And I had just got back from some kinda Naval camp or something, I can’t remember where I was-”

“Maybe off the coast of? Uhhhhhh.” He took a long pause before seamlessly moving on, forgetting what he had previously been saying.

“It had been so long, and I was going to see them, and I was so excited ‘cause I was going to see them.

I had a pink, err no, purple. Yeah, it was a purple ballerina tutu and slippers for my Adeline.

My baby was seven and she was going to be in Swan lake. She was so excited and I just knew she would love them for Christmas. And I had a pair of gold earrings for Daniella. But, I forgot to fill up my car before I left the base. So I got to the house, I had’s to walk there ‘cause my car had run out of gas. And I was home and so excited to hold my girls, and I walked in and-”

All evenness was simultaneously gone from his tone, as his mind moved along the old memory. Like an old VCR tape. Processing one scene of the memory at a time.  
It was now pure anguish and horror that replaced it. The emotion she had barely been able to sense now flooded into his open candor. A tidal wave of feelings and memories that were now drowning him.

He took a shaky breath and exhaled just as unsteadily. Liz could see his face now, contorted in pain. Brows furrowed and lip twitching, eyes hollow and unseeing as he stared right through whatever was in front of him.

It sent a shiver up her spine at how easily she could imagine him at this very moment. He continued, not giving her the chance to comment during his brief silence. 

“All I could smell was iron, and rust. Like the old hull of my ship. And I-I didn’t think it was blood at first but then I, I heard the kitchen timer go off and when I turned the corner Danny’s soup was boiling over. I r-remember screaming out for her, for my g-girls. And when I got to Addy’s room upstairs, all there was, was just, it was just all b-b-blood.”

His voice was so full of anguish, more emotion than Liz had ever heard out of Red.

Liz’s mouth was gaping, her hand covering her lips. Her eyebrows were furrowed and eyes wide as she tried to imagine what an absolute hell that night must have been for Red. What he must have seen-

Was this what had caused that hollow look in his eyes she had only ever briefly caught? When he thought he was alone and he let himself drift to a different place, a painful place by the agony she had only shortly caught a glimpse of on his features? Was it this night he traveled back to in those moments? Was it this night that had caused him to go from the next Navy Admiral to one of the FBI’s most wanted men? Was it this night that had shattered Raymond Reddington? 

His breathing was getting faster and growing more shallow by the second, and she imagined he must be close to hyperventilating. She didn’t have the chance to tell him that it was ok not to tell her if he didn’t want to, if it would only put him in a darker place.

She didn’t want him to hurt.

He was speaking quickly now, rambling, rehearsing his trauma again, cutting into a still oozing wound. 

She was stuck to the edge of her bed now, listening to him intently, growing more and more revolted by his story and what he must have been through by the second.

His voice was going so quickly she almost didn’t catch what he was saying.

But the picture he was painting, became painfully clear. Vivid, as if she was seeing it in color through his eyes. And in a sick way, she was. 

“They were in Addy’s room, and her walls, they used to be pink, but after that they weren’t a-anymore. And her rug, her rug was sticky and cold and wet and the sock monkey lamp she had gotten for her birthday was, was shattered. They were laying in glass and it was cutting them. 

And the baby, Danny had a little bump but I will never know if it would have been a boy, I always wanted a boy, but Danny and Addy wanted another girl in the house, and I would have been ok with another little girl, we could have named her Lily.

I always liked Lily.

And I told them to come back, but they wouldn’t wake up Lizzie, I couldn’t wake them up. And I-I it’s my f-fault.”

He gave an pained, exasperated huff, halfway between a laugh and a sob.

Lizzie sat in horror as she absorbed everything he had just told her. Tears began streaming down her face. 

She jumped out of bed and put the phone on speaker while she quickly got dressed. She would let him finish his rant, expecting more to come. There was no stopping him now that he had started, now that he was plastered and introducing her to his demons.

She would let him get it all out of his system. Then she would come to him, and hold him.  
Boundaries she had previously set be damned. He had held her when she was an emotional mess more than once.

He had stood by and helped her put herself back together.

She would do the same for him. If he would let her. She couldn’t continue to keep pretending that she despised him, not after he was in so much pain and she just wanted to make it better-

“If I had just been there to save them, if I had just filled up my damn car, then I could have protected them. But I wasn’t and t-they died alone, my little girl died, a-and it’s my fault and I-I only ever kill everyone around me, and I can’t let that happen again, I won’t let them get my Lizzie, because s-she is all I gots left, even if she hates me but I still love her. And I would rather that she be safe than h-hate me. So she can h-hate me and it s’all f-f-fine-” 

There was a loud CRASH, similar to glass shattering, and an equally loud THUMP. 

“Red?” No answer. 

“Red are you there? RED!”

The silence was palpable on the other end of the line.

No longer caring to change out of her sleeping tank top, Liz grabbed her keys and jacket and flew out the door.

As she bound down the steps to the parking garage of her apartment building she dialed Dembe’s burner, hoping like hell he had it off silent. He answered on the fourth ring, sounding exhausted and slightly irritated at being woken up.

Well welcome to the party bud.

“Elizabeth, what is the-”  
“I need Red’s safehouse address. Now.”  
“Elizabeth I don’t, what is going on?”

She didn’t pause very long before launching into her summary of the nights, or more like mornings, events.

“Red called me plastered and upset and I’m pretty sure he just collapsed on the other end. I’m going to make sure he is ok. Give me the address and I’ll meet you there.”

Dembe no longer hesitated, his voice steely and full of concern now understanding the severity of the situation. He must also be aware of how much liquor Red must consume to so completely off his rocker he would call Lizzie this late.

She could hear rustling on the other end of the line as Dembe jumped out of his bed. She was given the address to a remote flat in Dulles.

“I’ll see you there Elizabeth.”

\-------------------------------------------------

She scaled the stairs to the 2nd floor of the apartment complex, and promptly picked the lock on his room, hoping like hell Dembe hadn’t given her the wrong room number on accident.

She stepped inside quickly, closing the door behind her.

She peered around the corner, only to find the living room empty. Moving though the living room, she could see glass shards dotting the tile floor leading into the kitchen.

Turning her head towards the bar, she saw him. He was laying on the floor, glass shards and vodka covering the floor where he lay. 

“Red? Raymond?” He stirred slightly.

“n-no” He slurred, refusing to open his eyes.

She furrowed her brow and gave a sigh, trying to figure out how she could get him off the floor and to his room. Bending over she grabbed his face with a little more force than necessary.

His eyes lethargically blinked open, focusing in on her.

“Come on Red, I’m going to help you to your room. Up you go.” He planted his feet, and she helped him stand, keeping his arm pinned tightly to her shoulder. He gave a small groan and swayed into her, his head on her shoulder.

She gave a small exasperated smile as she thought of how ridiculous this whole predicament was.

But somehow, she didn’t care that she had been woken up and dragged out of bed. All that mattered was making sure Red was ok. And it felt good to take care of him for once.

“I’m s-sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about Red.”

“I didn’t get t-to tell them I was s-sorry.” She instantly knew who they were talking about, the conversation shifting back to the earlier subject, even if it was a possibility Red didn’t remember that part of it taking place.

She pushed his bedroom door open with her foot, and placed him on the bed.

“Red, they don’t blame you. Nothing that happened was your fault.” He stared blankly ahead, his tired expression devoid of any emotion. She began untying his shoes and gently slipping them off.

His expression morphed into something of confusion.

“Who’s you?” She looked up into his green gaze, holding it as she prompted.

“It’s me. Elizabeth. Lizzie.” His expression stayed pinched.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh. It’s me Red. Why wouldn’t it be?” She gave an amused chuckle and went back to tending to his shoes.

“‘Cause my Lizzie wouldn’t come h-here. She’s too mad at me.” All amusement was gone from her face as she went back to looking him in the eye.

Maybe it was pointless to disagree with a drunken man, but she couldn’t stand the pitiful way he was looking at her. So hurt, but a hurt he was so used to, that he didn’t think anything of it.

He didn’t think that he deserved better. She had only continued to feed that notion, that he wasn’t deserving.

Pangs of guilt stabbed at her. He was so used to being the scapegoat for her, so used to taking her abuse, and he always let her.

He let her rant and rave and stab him with pens.

He always took it. Never once raising his voice at her.

She had to find a way to let him know just how untrue that was. That she would always come for him. That she dreamed about him, and worried about him, and that she cared. She had to let him know somehow that she cared. Because that he could possibly think the opposite was unacceptable. 

She sighed and cupped his cheek, more tears streaming down her face.

“I’m the one that should be sorry Red. I’ve been so, I’m sorry Red. I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be so angry all the time I’m just protecting myself from, well, myself really. I’ve been so unfair to you, and I just need you to know that I care about you. Deeply. And I will always be here to help you. I just need you to know that. Ok? I care. A lot.”

Her voice broke at the end of her sentence and tears nipped at the corners of her eyes.

She took his pitiful form into her arms, burying herself in the crook of his neck and his shoulder as her arms slinked around him. Pulling him closer to the edge of the bed.

He tensed up, not moving for several seconds, but he eventually relaxed into her. Giving way to her touch, craving any kind of contact.

He reeked of alcohol, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

This would be the last time he would have to cope like this by himself.

She pulled back and went about unbuttoning his waist coat, and dress shirt. Leaving his undershirt and slacks on.

He said nothing, but had a content grin on his face as he took a strand of her hair and played with it. Watching as it slipped through his fingers, over and over. 

“Lean back.”

Following her instructions, his head hit the pillow and she tucked him in.

She clicked off his lamp and crept to the door before he stopped her.

“S-stay please.” She looked back to his huddled form and swallowed.

How could she say no to him? This poor touch starved man? How long had it been since someone had taken care of him other than his best friend? And to be honest, she was tired as well. And she wanted to hold him. She needed him to know she was there for him.

“Ok.”

She moved to the other side of the bed and scooted in. His back hit her chest as he settled in. She wrapped an arm around his side and he snuggled into her even more.

Drunk Red was cuddly.

She felt an emotion to remain unnamed blossom in her as she watched him fall asleep in her arms.

Unnamed, at least, just for now.

\-------------------------------------------------

When Dembe entered the apartment the last thing he thought he would see was Raymond curled up in Elizabeth’s arms as they both slept.

They both looked so content, he couldn’t bear to wake them.

He smiled the entire time he cleaned up the broken glass and spilled liquor. Thinking of how glad he was that they both finally found some peace in each other. He could only hope that they both would just stop running, that they would finally open up to one another about the emotions coursing in between them both. Literally everyone could feel it. Apparently besides them. It was growing tiring waiting for them to get themselves together. But this could be the break they finally needed, so they could move on. So Raymond could be honest with Elizabeth and so Elizabeth could be honest with herself. 

The only thing Dembe could whisper as he stood in the doorway watching them together after cleaning up an unlawful amount of vodka was, “It’s about damn time you two.”


End file.
